


Tie that chain round my waist

by LiviKate



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Asexual themes, Asexuality Spectrum, But just introspectively, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Sex, The author is a slut for communication, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviKate/pseuds/LiviKate
Summary: Otabek was going to want to have sex with him. Otabek was going to expect to have sex with him. And he should. They should. The precedent had been set; they had sex, so sex was a thing that they did now. So why did Yuri feel like tearing his hair out?





	Tie that chain round my waist

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sarajevo by Watsky
> 
> And a shout out to my girl [ Isabelle ](https://izbelles.tumblr.com/) for helping me talk this out and [ Rita ](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com/) for giving Iz the best fucking explanation of grey-ace I've ever heard in my fucking life.

Yuri sat in the airport, tearing at the sleeve of his jacket. He was early, far too early, but he’d been so nervous he couldn’t just wait at home until a reasonable time to leave. He’d been nervous for days, anxiety filling him up until he was right here, perched in an uncomfortable airport seat in baggage claim, staring blankly at the Arrivals board.

Otabek was coming to visit. It would be the first time they’d seen each other since the last Grand Prix Final. A final at which Otabek Altin had gotten the gold medal, beating Yuri by four whole points. A final at which Yuri had been so inexplicably turned on by the passion in Otabek’s routine, the pride and joy radiating from his face, and the stoic way he’d let tears roll down his cheeks when his national anthem played. A final at which Yuri and Otabek had crashed together, fucking for the first time, hard and breathless and soft and sweet for two days until they were sent away from each other again.

They’d been dating for months. Seeing each other at competitions when it was convenient and flying thousands of miles to stay with each other even when it wasn’t. This wasn’t the first time Yuri had anxiously waited in the airport for his boyfriend. But this was the first time since the first time they had sex.

He knew it shouldn’t make him nervous. He’d loved it. He couldn’t keep his hands or mouth off of Otabek, scratching and biting and begging for more. It had felt so indescribably good, he couldn’t imagine how he’d waited nineteen years to feel that way. He liked sex. He loved Otabek. So he should feel fine, excited, even.

But he didn’t feel fine. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt like he couldn’t hold a conversation, much less eye contact with anyone, let alone his boyfriend. He felt like his whole visit was going to go terribly, and the weight of it was hovering over him, harsh and foreboding.

Because Otabek was going to want to have sex with him. Otabek was going to _expect_ to have sex with him. And he should. They should. The precedent had been set; they had sex, so sex was a thing that they did now. So why did Yuri feel like tearing his hair out?

He didn’t know when it would happen. They hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks. What if Otabek wanted to have sex with him so badly he wanted to go straight home to do that? If Yuri took Otabek out to the city to get dinner or do an activity, would that be seen as him postponing the sex? Would Otabek be annoyed? Would he spend the rest of the day just _waiting_ until they could go home and have sex?

Yuri dropped his head in his hands, working his fingers through his hair.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. The sex had been good, he’d liked it. He should want it to happen again.

But it had also been spontaneous, and passionate. It hadn’t been scheduled, he hadn’t anticipated it, so he hadn’t needed to worry about it. It also hadn’t been expected of him.

Now he felt like he needed to, because Otabek would want to, and Otabek would expect him to want to.

Yuri didn’t know if he wanted to. Yuri didn’t know if he didn’t want to, or if he was just nervous but still wanted to.

He hadn’t felt like it, lately. Hadn’t been jerking off that much, hadn’t been thinking about it. The closer it got to Otabek’s visit, the more he looked forward to other things, like holding hands, and cooking together, and showing him his new favorite show. He wasn’t looking forward to the sex part. Or maybe he was, but it wasn’t the _point_ for him.

But reunion sex was a thing people did. It was expected. Otabek was probably sitting on the plane, thinking about how he was going to swoop Yuri of his feet, spirit him home and sit him down on his dick. He’d probably had a hundred dirty fantasies of Yuri, of what he wanted to do to Yuri, of what Yuri would do to him the next time they saw each other. And now here Yuri was, sitting in the airport forty-five minutes early, hyperventilating into his knees because he didn’t know if he wanted to.

He could say no, he knew that. But it would hurt Otabek’s feelings. It would disappoint him, and Yuri didn’t want to ruin his whole trip from the very beginning by not having sex with him.

He was pretty sure that if he started having sex, that he would get into it after a while and it would be good. Otabek was a good partner, he thought, though he didn’t have any other comparison. He hadn’t pushed him in the first part of their relationship to have sex, and when they finally did, he’d been giving and enthusiastic, and invested in Yuri’s pleasure. So he was sure Otabek would make it good for him.

He didn’t know if he wanted to be naked, though. Maybe it was the nerves, but he didn’t feel sexy, and he thought the whole procedure of sex sounded like a lot of mess and a lot of work right now. And what if he never got into it? Would Otabek be able to tell? Would Otabek be more hurt that Yuri didn’t like the sex, or more hurt by Yuri telling him no?

It felt like it had only been minutes since Yuri had tucked his head into his arms and gave into his worries, but when he looked up again, he saw that Otabek’s plane had landed.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, rubbing his hands on his jeans. They were super sweaty. He rubbed faster. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Now his hands were so hot he couldn’t tell if they were dry or wet.

He’d thought about calling the whole trip off more than once. Yes, he wanted to see Otabek. But he could also imagine this whole event going so wrong, that he couldn’t help but wonder if it was just better to miss each other instead of see each other and be disappointed.

He stood up, and sat back down. He was a little light headed. He breathed deeply a few times, and then headed to Customs to wait.

How should he kiss him? What sort of kisses implied sexual intention? He thought that he knew the answer to that before they had sex, but then Otabek had kissed him, gently and chastely, tiny little pecks over his face, right before sucking his dick down his throat in the shower. So apparently any kiss could foreshadow sex. Fuck, so there was no safe way to kiss him.

But he wanted to kiss him. He thought about kissing him all the time. He loved the way Otabek’s arms would loop loosely around his back, and the way his fingers would play distractedly with his hair. He liked kissing him for hours, just spending time in each other’s space, understanding the shape of each other. He never got bored of kissing.

And cuddling, he was such a slut for cuddling. He’d punch himself in the face before he ever admitted it out loud, but he was a total slut for cuddling. He liked laying with Otabek on the couch or in bed, watching tv, or chatting, or on their own phones. He liked the peace of it. Even if he was yelling about something stupid Viktor did, he felt happier when he was draped over Otabek’s back.

He liked all the things they’d done before they had sex. He wanted one of those visits.

But those visits were gone forever, because they’d had sex and now the normal and adult thing to do would be to keep having sex. Because it was good and they liked it, and it would really be more awkward not to have sex, right? Because then the sex they weren’t having would just be looming over them the whole time. Just like it was clouding over Yuri right now.

By the time he spotted Otabek’s Sokka-style pony tail bobbing through the crowd, his hands were fucking supersoakers again.

He wiped them on his sleeves in what he hoped was a smooth and unnoticeable maneuver and waved. Otabek waved back, smiling almost unperceivably over the distance between them. Yuri watched, trying not to fidget as Otabek got in line to pass through immigration. He shifted on his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets before taking them back out, dragging fingers through his hair before fussing with his hoodie strings. After what seemed like a fucking millennia of awkwardness, Otabek was tucking his passport back into his backpack and making his way over to Yuri.

Dropping his duffle and his backpack, Otabek drew him immediately into a hug, and Yuri could’ve wept in relief. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and leaned into it, burying his head into his neck. He released a shuddering exhale and squeezed his short frame even tighter.

“I’m mad at you,” Otabek said to his collarbone, where his lips brushed over his shirt. “I asked you very politely to stop growing.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” Yuri said, tugging at his hair. “Besides, you like it.” Otabek pulled out of his hold enough to grin up at him.

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed easily, before leaning up for a kiss.

It was soft and it was sweet, and Yuri melted into it immediately. Hands gently on the back of his neck, Yuri breathed a sigh of relief into his mouth, carefully pulling at his lips, kissing him until they slid smoothly against each other. Otabek caught his lower lip between his, humming around it as he rubbed his hands up and down his back brusquely before pulling away.

“Let’s go home.”

And the nerves were back.

 

The whole way back to his apartment, Yuri was nervous, jumping every time Otabek put a hand on him. He wasn’t subtle about it either. Otabek pursed his lips the third time it happened, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he just grabbed Yuri’s arm tightly, and wrapped it around his own waist. They spent the rest of the ride with Otabek leaning back against his chest, his head propping up Yuri’s chin as they swayed gently with the movement of the subway. Otabek kept their fingers tightly wound as they walked through the balmy St. Petersburg air from their stop to Yuri’s apartment, and Yuri was glad he’d convinced Otabek to let him carry his bag, so his hand had something to do other than just sweat.

By the time they made it to the elevator, Yuri was practically vibrating with nerves. He could tell Otabek was bothered by it, even though he couldn’t bring himself to look at the man for more than two seconds at a time. It was like he was afraid eye contact would make Otabek jump him right there. So he looked at anything else, swallowing compulsively and trying to make himself make a decision.

If they walked in the door, and Yuri tried to do anything other than start taking their clothes off, there was a chance that Otabek would take the initiative. He could already see himself puttering awkwardly in the kitchen, talking too loudly, and Otabek coming up to take half-finished cups of tea out of his hands and kissing him soundly. That didn’t sound too bad. But there was also a chance that Otabek wouldn’t do anything. And he’d sit there, awkwardly, and Yuri would make tea, awkwardly, and they would awkwardly not have sex, even if both of them were thinking the whole time about how awkward it was that they weren’t having sex.

‘ _Fuck,’_ Yuri thought bitterly as the elevator doors slid open. He didn’t know what to do. His hands shook when they got to his door, and it took him more than two tries to get the key in the lock.

“Yuri, is something wrong?” Otabek said, the words barely slipping out of his mouth before Yuri made his panicked decision. Pushing him back against the closed door, he smashed their lips together with too much force to actually be pleasurable. But it seemed to get the message across because then Otabek’s hands were tangling in his hair and he was groaning into his mouth.

“Is this what you were nervous about?” he breathed against his lips, before taking control and making the kiss coordinated and deep. Yuri tried to focus on the kiss, trying to fall into it like he had at the airport. But there had been safety at the airport; there had been no reason for Otabek to start stripping him down and putting fingers inside him. Now that they were home, and they were behind closed doors, there was no reason for that _not_ to happen. Because it would be worse if it didn’t.

It was better to just get it over with, Yuri decided. Once it was over, maybe then he’d be able to relax and enjoy their time together for a little while until the next time it happened.

Yuri pushed Otabek’s jacket off his shoulders. Or, he tried to, before he realized his backpack was still on, and probably squished uncomfortably between him and the door.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, pulling back, face red with embarrassment. He felt like he’d done nothing but embarrass himself since before Otabek even stepped off the plane.

“It’s fine,” Otabek said, soothingly, brushing his hair behind his ear with a gentle, lingering hand. He shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and then stepped away from Yuri to hang his jacket up by the door. Then he turned away from him completely and started making his way to the couch.

“Um,” Yuri said, staring after him. “Do you want to go to the bedroom?” he asked, feeling like he was about to literally combust from embarrassment and anxiety.

“Could we just sit down for a little, first?” Otabek asked, turning to look at Yuri was a pleading expression. Which, for him, was a slightly pinched brow and a barely noticeable tuck to his bottom lip. “It was a long plane ride, and we haven’t seen each other in a few weeks, so can we just sit and talk? Or watch that new show you like?” Otabek reached out to grab his hand when he said nothing, shocked. “Is that okay?” he asked, looking hesitant.

Yuri nearly cried. In fact, his eyes got a little swimmy as relief rushed through his so forcefully he actually swayed.

“Yes,” he said earnestly. “Yes, that is perfect.” Otabek watched him with a raised brow and clear skepticism as Yuri herded him to the couch, plopping down and pulling his boyfriend back against his chest so he could wrap himself around him. He tucked his face into his throat and tried to breathe.

“Hey,” Otabek said, running his hand up and down Yuri’s forearm, where it was lashed too tightly around his stomach. “Not that I’m complaining, but you seem really excited to not be having sex right now.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Yuri said, holding Otabek tightly against his chest, partly because he liked to, and partly because he didn’t want Otabek trying to twist around and look at him. “I just really don’t feel like it right now,” he admitted in a murmur.

“It seemed like you felt like it?” Otabek asked leadingly, tracing soothing patterns over his arm.

“I figured you would want to, and if I just got it over with, then I’d be able to stop worrying about it.” Otabek’s whole body went stiff and he tried to turn around in Yuri’s arms. He held him tightly, not letting him move.

“Yuri, let go of me right now,” he said, harshly enough that Yuri complied immediately, tucking his chin down in embarrassment.

He’d gotten what he’d wanted, a free pass from sex, and he still managed to disappoint his boyfriend.

“Yuri, you never have to have sex with me,” Otabek said firmly, and Yuri crossed his arms over his chest.

“I know that, I’m not stupid,” he groused, protesting feebly when Otabek grabbed at his wrists and unfolded his arms, not letting him hide defensively. “But if you’d really wanted to start fucking, and I said no, you would’ve been really disappointed.”

“So?” Otabek asked, not denying it. “Sex isn’t about avoiding disappointment, it’s about feeling good and being close with someone.” Otabek held his hands gently, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “And I don’t want to have sex with you if you don’t want it. That wouldn’t even be fun.”

“Well, hey, don’t make it a big deal,” Yuri said, looking away and pulling his knees up between them. “Because I don’t feel like it a lot of the time.” He said it like it was a challenge. “There’s a reason I didn’t have sex until I was nineteen fucking years old. So there’s probably going to be a bunch of times where you want to have sex and I don’t, and you’re going to wish you hadn’t taken some big, strong stance about it.”

“Yuri,” Otabek said, catching his chin and forcing his head up. He sounded mad and there was a furrow between his brows. “I will never force you to have sex with me. Why is that even a question?”

“It’s not,” Yuri said, frustrated. He leaned back against the arm of the couch, annoyed with himself that he’d made this a bigger deal than it ever had to be. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Otabek still looked ruffled, but it softened to something that was adorable. “Look, I’m sorry. I just really want to hold you, and you said you wanted that, too, so can we just do that?”

Otabek regarded him carefully before crawling forward on the couch and lying down on top of him. The air rushed from Yuri’s lungs in an exaggerated wheeze and Otabek unapologetically nuzzled his face into his throat, turning his shoulder red from scruff-burn. Yuri didn’t protest, wrapping his arms up around his back and pulling him down tightly. They laid in silence for a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri whispered, when he noticed that Otabek’s shoulders were still tense under his hands. “I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted everything to be perfect, and I worried so much about things going wrong that I ruined it.” Otabek melted against him.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Otabek promised him, his low voice vibrating their chests. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to. Nothing makes me happier than just being with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

“Even if we never have sex again?” Yuri asked, in a small voice, finally voicing a fear that had lingered in his head over the last few days. But Otabek’s shoulder didn’t tense up and he didn’t get angry, not like he did any time Yuri talked about having sex when not wanting to. When he talked about not wanting to have sex ever, Otabek was completely relaxed and seemingly calm.

“Do you think you might want that?” Otabek asked. “You could be ace. I hope you know that would be fine with me.”

“No, I don’t think I’m ace,” Yuri said, though something in his chest loosened considerably at the seriousness and acceptance with which Otabek was discussing this. “I, um,” Yuri stuttered, “I really liked what we did. In Boston. I really, really liked it.” He tried not to blush. He failed. “Then.”

“You don’t have to want sex all the time,” Otabek murmured soothingly, his hands stroking tiny arcs over his sides. “You could be demisexual, or grey-ace, or anything. I mean, I don’t know everything about it, but I’d be willing to learn. You could not be on the asexual spectrum at all and just be anxious about sex. That’s fine, too. None of that is going to change how much I like you or how much I like spending time with you.”

Yuri couldn’t say anything back, he was too overwhelmed by relief. He’d spent so many hours filled with anxiety about exactly this, so much that he almost wanted to cancel it, and here Otabek was being entirely perfect for him. He couldn’t say that, so he just buried his face in his partner’s hair and tried to pray, to anyone who was listening, because there was no earthly way he could ever have gotten this lucky.

“I was just so nervous,” Yuri confessed. “About what you would think if I didn’t want to. I got so anxious I couldn’t even tell if I wanted to or not. And I wanted to make the most of our time together.”

“Babe, there are no rules for this,” Otabek said gently, pushing up on his elbows enough to look him in the eye. “If expectations make you nervous, know that I don’t have any. When I told you I wanted to come to Russia to be with you, that’s what I meant. If we have sex, awesome, that would be incredible. But if we don’t, I’m not going to feel like this was a waste of our time. You’re worth more than just an orgasm.”

Because Yuri was worried he might cry if he didn’t do something, he pulled Otabek into a desperate kiss. It was a little too emotional to be sexy, but that suited Yuri just fine. Because when he pulled away to gasp for air, his chest shuddering around too many feelings, Otabek just kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly.

“Hey, can I tell you something?” Yuri asked, eyes still closed, forehead pressed to his boyfriend’s.

“Anything,” Otabek breathed in the scant space between them.

“I think I love you,” Yuri whispered, opening his eyes to find Otabek staring down at him like he’d just been given the stars and heavens. He kissed him again, a single slow press with eyes open.

“I know I love you,” Otabek said bravely, their lips brushing with his words.

Yuri threaded his fingers through his hair, messing up his ponytail and pulling their mouths together so strongly their teeth clicked. This kiss was open and slow and hot and wet and every other adjective Yuri could think of to describe a perfect kiss. It was a whole body kiss, their legs tangling together and their chests pressing tight enough to share a racing heartbeat. When Yuri broke for air from this kiss, Otabek occupied himself by sucking hot marks into his throat, and Yuri let him, head bent back, panting towards the ceiling. Because he knew even if they made out for hours, even if they took their shirts off, even if they both got hard, that there was nothing he had to worry about except kissing and kissing and more kissing.

And if he and Otabek ended up gasping in bed together that night, then that would be okay. And if they fell asleep tangled up watching Netflix, that would be okay. Because nothing mattered more than them being together, and Yuri was pretty sure that feeling was called love.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hesitated at tagging this as Asexual, because it's not, not really, and I'm not, not really, so I didn't want to overstep into a story that wouldn't be mine to tell. However, when I had it read over by friends who identify as some variety of ace, most agreed that it was open enough to be read by multiple audiences in multiple ways. If it bothers you or offends you at all, I'm really sorry about that. And if anyone found any of Yuri's thought triggering or worthy of a warning in the notes, just drop me a line and I'd be happy to talk to you about it.
> 
> I really do hope you enjoyed it though. As a maybe-ace spectrum person in a long distance relationship, this is definitely a story I felt it was important to tell.
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr if you want more of my trash existence. I'm [ definitelynotadulting ](http://definitelynotadulting.tumblr.com/)


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